Just A Little Tipsy
by fiorae
Summary: Terry has a bit too much to drink and Rock has to take care of him. TerryRock


Title: Just A Little Tipsy

Author: fiorae

Series: Fatal Fury – Mark Of The Wolves

Pairing: Terry/Rock fluff

Warnings: slash, shonen ai, fluff, gayness, drunk Terry

Summary: Terry has a bit too much to drink and Rock has to take care of him. TerryRock

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters presented in this story, they are copyrighted to SNK.

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Just A Little Tipsy-Part One

Rock let out a deep sigh, holding back the hair of his hunched over guardian as he released another round of digested potato chips into the toilet. When watching Terry chuck his cookies like this, it made him very thankful for the age restriction on drinking. He wouldn't have to worry about hangovers and memory loss for another three years. Not legally, anyway.

If anyone were to blame for the current state of a certain blond man, it was Joe Higashi. Sure the idea of a get together to celebrate another tournament win _sounded_ good at the time, but the end results were less than desirable. Rock had sat there between two cackling adult men listening to them drawl on about the old days when they'd fought _real_ fighters (and even fighters-gone-godly) while guzzling down cups of whiskey and vodka. He'd wanted to slip away so badly but had found himself squished in place by the bulging muscles of his role models. So he'd stayed and witnessed the human brain deteriorate into nothingness in a matter of minutes.

It wasn't so much the fact that Joe had brought the alcohol over, knowing full well that Terry had a drinking problem and couldn't hold his liquor to save his life, that annoyed him. It was more how quick of an exit the Thai kick boxer had made after affectively intoxicating his only source of survival that bothered him. It was almost as if his sole purpose in visiting them had been to get Terry drunk, leave, and stick Rock with babysitting duty.

Another deep sigh. No sense complaining over what can't be fixed right?

"Ugh ..." Terry wiped his mouth with a nearby towel and sat up. Rock lifted one of the older man's arms over his shoulders and began to walk him towards the living room. It was a good thing their home wasn't as large and complicated as Andy and Mai's. He'd never be able to lug Terry around hallways **that** big all night.

Rock knocked away a few cans and empty bags with his foot and sat Terry down on the couch.

"I'm going to get your aspirin. You're gonna need it," he said with a little smirk before walking into the kitchen. This, admittedly, wasn't the first time he'd had to take care of a drunken Terry so he was relatively familiar with what to do. He pulled the brown bottle from the cabinet and poured a glass of water then walked back over to the couch. Terry had positioned himself in a manner one might do in a therapist's office, an arm lazily drooped over his forehead. He sat up a bit at the sound of the glass touching the table.

"Thanks ..." he drawled out in a much too depressive way. Rock's eyes narrowed a bit. It was the self hatred stage. Living with Terry all these years, he'd witnessed all of his weird drunken mood swings and was good at recognizing which was which. In this particular one Terry would take on a more suicidal personality, going on about how worthless he is and how he shouldn't be allowed to live. In some instances he'd even attempt to jump out the window but always doubled over before getting close enough. Mention any of this to him the next morning though and he'd swear up and down you were crazy.

It's surprising what alcohol can do.

"I'm sorry, Rock ..." Terry groaned out as he popped the pill into his mouth and chugged down half the glass of water. Rock lifted up Terry's long legs, sat down on the couch, and put said legs in his lap. He absentmindedly fiddled with a loose string on Terry's worn jeans and prepared himself for a long conversation.

"What for?"

Terry sighed a bit, running a hand through his hair. "For always doing this! Always getting so drunk ... Ugh, I'm so stupid ...!" he mumbled in a sluggish manner. Rock leaned back into the soft fabric.

"Yeah you are."

"You hate me ... don't you?"

"No I don't. You know I don't."

"You do ..." he whined, his voice getting tearful. Rock stared at him from the corner of his eye. His fingers moved familiarly across the stitching of the denim.

"If I really hated you, I wouldn't be sitting here on a Friday night taking care of you, you big baby."

Terry's eyes brightened a bit. "So you don't hate me?"

"No, Terry, I don't."

The older man's frown turned into a smile so suddenly it made Rock flinch. His eyes were glowing like a child's as he retracted his legs from Rock's lap, pushing himself forward. Instinctively, Rock inched back. It was the extreme happiness stage.

"I'm so relieved, Rock! You don't hate me!" Terry cooed loudly, wrapping his arms around Rock's neck in a tight embrace. Maybe a little too tight as Rock felt his lungs lacking air.

"Y-yea Terry, I d-don't hate you ...!" he choked out as he tried his best to free himself of Terry's death grip, finding it impossible.

"I love you Rock!"

"Y-yea, I love you too...!"

Terry finally let go, choosing to grip Rock's shoulders instead.

"No I mean, I really love you Rock," he said with a pouting face. Rock nodded vaguely, rubbing his sore neck tenderly. The hands gripping his shoulders suddenly pushed forward and before he knew it, he was pinned flat into the couch with a very serious looking Terry hovering above him. He stared into his piercing blue eyes. This was a stage he'd never seen in Terry, but instead in Joe. The horny stage. He recalled a very intoxicated Thai kick boxer getting to second base with a house plant several years back. Oh how he wished Terry's eye sight was as horrible...

"You understand what I mean when I say 'I love you' ... right?" Terry whispered, his eyes focused directly into the younger boy's. Rock could smell the alcohol on his breathe. He bit his bottom lip, breaking eye contact and pointing his gaze at the abandoned glass sitting on the coffee table. He knew what Terry was getting at. And he could feel his cheeks heating up from the close contact...

"You're drunk ... You don't know what you're saying ..." Rock spoke quietly as he cheeks flushed. It felt more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Terry.

A few strands of blond hair brushed against his cheeks as the older man brought his face closer. He pressed his forehead to his, forcing Rock to look back. His eyes were gentle, longing even. The hands gripping his shoulders lightened their hold.

"Not drunk. Just a little tipsy ..."

And then he pushed forward. Their lips met and Rock's mind went blank. He felt a tongue slip into his open mouth, roaming around hungrily. He couldn't help but moan at the sensation. It felt ... amazing. Terry pressed his body against his, deepening the kiss. One of his hands roamed down his side slowly, slipping under his black shirt...

The bitter taste of alcohol brought Rock back to reality and he shoved Terry back. The older blond looked hurt, his cheeks as flushed as Rock's own. Rock was out of breath, panting as he jumped from the couch and rushed to his room, leaving an alarmed Terry behind.

He shut the door behind him, let his back hit it, and then sunk into his knees. He brought them up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, shoulders shaking gently. His face was still burning red.

"What the hell ..." he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips tenderly.

His very first kiss ... had tasted of alcohol, potato chips, and sweet cherry pie.


End file.
